


Humility and Riches

by bitchismitebe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M, Footman!castiel, Forbidden Romance, Historical AU, Masturbation, Megstiel - Freeform, Oral Sex, Regency, Romance, Slow Burn Romance, lady!meg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-03-19 10:43:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 16,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3607197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitchismitebe/pseuds/bitchismitebe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sixteen year old Meg has little to live for in her gilded cage, her days a never ending cycle of meaningless hobbies and preparation for her coming out in society, but when a handsome young footman starts to join her in her secret rebellion she begins to dream that there may be a world outside of her fathers manor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New acquaintances.

Meg lazily fanned herself, the warmth of the summers day and the tightness of her corset leading to very unladylike moisture growing on her decolletage.

She swallowed thickly, throat phelgmy and uncomfortable as she signaled for the footman to bring over a glass of lemonade. Her mother glanced at her reprimandingly and she restrained a sigh. Signaling was another thing on the list of unrefined behaviours Meg subscribed to, and she was growing out of the age where such things would be overlooked as something to be sanded away at some finishing school or other. 

She lifted her gaze back to the men opposite who were discussing land and money, though in guarded words, skirting around the issue as they well should in polite company. Meg found it all very droll and uninteresting, and her attention soon started to wander once more, glancing around at the assembled company, summond at the behest of her mother, on the hunt for a husband for her older sister. 

A lemonade, condensation gathering on the glass appeared on a silver platter in front of her face, and she glanced up at the footman to nod her head in acknowledgement. A lump appeared in her throat that had nothing to do with the humidity when she found herself lost in a pair of the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.  
The blue eyes widened slightly as her hand paused on the glass, a flush creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks.

"Thankyou." She said softly, collecting herself enough to look away. The platter disappeared from under her nose and she found herself on the end of another glare from her mother.

"We don’t thank servants." She half hissed under her breath. "It’s a sign of poor breeding." Meg wisely remained silent, turning her focus on taking sips that whilst appearing dainty, were deep enough to quench her thirst. 

After a few minutes, she found herself to be courageous enough to sneak a glance at the handsome footman, pink spots appearing high on her cheeks as she caught him already looking. There was something foreign in those knowing eyes, something that left her chest tighter than the ribbons of her corset ever had.


	2. The river

Meg walked slowly down the front steps, book clasped in her hands, held tight to her breast. She found the more she looked like she was behaving in an obedient fashion, the less likely she was to be questioned, either by her mother or by well meaning, but incredibly dull servants, only looking out for her wellbeing. She walked through her fathers plush grounds, the morning sun warm, but not yet heated enough to make the flowers wilt, or the grass fade to its dull afternoon yellow. 

Once she was out of view of the manors many windows, she knelt, pulling off her slippers. She hummed happily as her toes sank into the cool damp blades, sighing happily. With one last look around her to make sure she was unobservered, she gathered up the skirts of her column dress, petticoats and all, starting to run barelegged, the tops of her bloomers showing. She threw her head back to laugh, tendrils of hair coming loose. She was free. If only her mother could see her now, she’d call her wild, possibly send her away to an asylum. The thought sobered her, and she dropped her dress, a hint of a smile still playing on her lips as she hurried towards the woods. 

Castiel was polishing a pair of the butlers shoes, not even trained enough to be allowed near the masters, when he saw a flash of white against the green of the lawn. He stood, flicking away his cigerette and squinting into the sunlight, lips parting in shock as he saw the youngest daughter of the family running across the lawn. 

He licked his lips, putting the shoes down to look again, the girls pink legs pumping until she seemed to think better, slowing and dropping her skirts. Castiel felt sorry for a moment. The girls movements had been so free, joy in the swing of every step. Now instead she had stepped back into the cage she was born into… Or perhaps not. Castiel raised an eyebrow as he saw her skirt around the thick bramble, seemingly finding some hidden entrance to the wood which he knew was out of bound for her. He quickly dropped the cloth on the finished shoes. He should go escort her back to safety, it was his duty as an employee of the house. 

Meg settled back against the tree her skirt pulled up over her knees so she could dip her toes lazily into the nearby stream. Under the thick canopy was cool, and would stay that way for the entire day, despite the harsh glare of the sun. Added to the fact she was unlikely to be disturbed, it made the perfect hiding place. Meg quickly became engrossed in her book, a story of angels falling to earth, she had just reached the part where a tree had started to grow supernaturally fast due to a one falling when she heard an awkward clearing of a throat. She froze. 

"M’lady." Castiel said uncertainly, averting his eyes from the girls near nakedness, squeezing them shut as she gave a shriek. He only dared open them a few moments later after hearing a suitable amount of rustling muslin. He looked down into a pair of chestnut eyes, set into a pink face. His eyes ghosted over her reddened lips before offering her a hand.

"I’ve come to assist you back to the house m’lady. I must assume you’ve become lost."

Meg blinked at him for a second. “Then sir, you must assume wrong. One must only wonder at your cognition if you believe I have gotten lost in the garden of a house I have lived in since birth.” Her embarrassed flush changed to one of irritation as she looked up at the uncomfortable looking Man. 

Castiel shifted, looking down at her. “It’s not safe in the woods, m’lady. There could be anything, or anyone to cause you harm.” He said significantly. “There are many unsavoury individuals who would delight in finding a young lady alone.” 

Meg only scowled further. “Unsavoury characters who would follow me at the first opportunity to find me alone?" She asked, challenge in her voice. 

Castiel stammered quickly. “I didn’t mean… I am making no threat m’lady” he said quickly. “I simply wish to ensure your safety.”

Meg regarded him for a moment. “So stay. You may be my guard.” She said with a small smile, folding her book in her lap. 

"I’m not sure about that m’lady." He said, glancing back in the direction he came. "They’ll need me at the house." 

"Nonsense. You’re barely older than me and you’ve been here for all of thirty minutes." She said, cocking her head. "They’ll have you polishing Watkins shoes and blacking the fireplaces." Castiels flush told her she was correct, and she looked up at him softer. "Stay. Dip your feet and I’ll speak to my Father. Tell him I’d turned my ankle and begged you not to leave." 

Castiel shuffled awkwardly, looking between the pretty girl laid out on the ground and the direction that would take him back to menial labour and barked orders, but he was only a man, and a teenaged one at that. Masters daughter or not. An afternoon with a pretty girl would always be his choice.

Giving a long suffering sigh, he sat next to her, taking the book she handed to him. “Read to me.” She demanded, pulling her skirt back up to her ankles to dip her toes once more, closing her eyes as she lay her head back against the tree. 

The sun was low in the sky when they decided they had better return to the house. Meg stood, taking back her book, before slowly looking up into castiels eyes. “You didn’t even tell me your name.” She said, hugging the book to her stomach, pushing her heaving bosom up further.

"Castiel." He said slowly, bowing to her. "And you are the Lady Megan Masters  
"Just Meg." She said, curtsying back to him. "Thankyou for staying. Staying and not telling my mother where I was."

"My pleasure." Castiel replied, offering his arm to her. 

She slipped her hand into his elbow. “I know you can’t do this every day. But if you find a way to tell me when it’s your afternoon off, perhaps we could again?” She asked hopefully. 

"I would enjoy that… Meg." He said with a nod. "Though perhaps something less flowery next time." He said, gesturing to the book.

Meg gave a short laugh as they reached the edge of the wood. “This is where we part.” She said, affecting a limp. “I’ll speak to father. He won’t allow you to be in trouble.” Castiel nodded gratefully. 

"Until next time m’lady." He said, giving a final bow as she turned to leave, giving a last wave over her shoulder. He watched her, poised and elegant as she walked across the lawn, heart sinking. He couldn’t afford to cultivate a friendship with such a woman. It would only end badly for them both.


	3. Consideration

It was a number of days before Meg caught a glimpse of the handsome footman again. Days in which she sat in the parlour, attempting to get back into her mothers good books by sitting straight and embroidering flowers into muslin stretched on a hoop. She paused, placing the project beside her on the couch as she took a sip of her iced tea, dampness from the glass chilling her needle pricked fingers.

It was as if Castiel had walked straight out of her daydreams and into reality when he entered the room. She blinked up at him, starting to smile before remembering herself, turning her head away and returning her attention to the hoop in her hand.

Castiel placed a tray of dainty sandwiches on the table between herself and her mother, before retiring to stand against the wall behind them, relieving the footman already stood there to go about his other duties. 

"What are you smiling at Megan?" Her mother asked, placing her own work aside before reaching forward to take a plate, placing two small sandwiches on it.  
Meg looked up at her, before finishing the stitch. 

“Forgive me.” She said softly. “I was taking satisfaction in the skill of the piece I am working on. I have improved, have I not?” She asked, turning the work to show her. 

Her mother turned a critical eye over it, before giving an approving nod. “Indeed.” She agreed, taking a mouthful. 

Meg breathed a little easier as she leaned forward to take her own luncheon, chewing as daintily as possible, barely daring to breathe as she felt not one, but two pairs of eyes on her, one from the front, ready to scold her for any crumb which may stray from her control, and the other from behind her, the pair she ached to turn to see. 

From somewhere down the echoing halls a bell rang, breaking the silence. It was followed a minute later by the sound of footsteps and a knock. 

"You have a caller, your ladyship." The butler said with a bow. 

"You may show them in." Her Mother said indifferently. They received many callers, and they rarely stayed for tremendous amounts of time. 

The butler cleared his throat pompously. “It is Lord Syndeby.” He continued. 

For anyone who did not know her mother well, there was no change, but Meg, having grown accustomed to gauging her mothers moods saw the light pick up in her eyes, an increasing straightness to her back. “Very well Wilson.” she said quietly, placing her work aside. “I will take him in the parlour.” 

Meg stood alongside her mother, curtsying slowly as she turned to leave. “I will see you at Dinner, Megan.” She said, replacing her gloves. “Give your Mama a kiss.” Meg moved around the table, placing her lips dryly against her mothers powdered cheek. 

She waited for her to leave, the door shut and footsteps inaudible before turning to sit back down. 

"I see you have found yet another reason to be alone with me." She said, faced away from him, fingers trembling as she reached for her drink once more. 

Instead of an answer, came only silence. Megs heart fluttered in her chest, knowing she should simply return to her sewing. To pursue any man, especially one of a lower class, spoke of ill breeding. However, after only a few minutes, she could not stand it any longer, shifting in her seat to look at him. 

“Have I caused you an offence?” She asked, voice short with irritation. 

Castiel remained looking forward for only a mere second longer, before looking back towards Meg. “You have caused me no offence Your Ladyship.” He said, voice deep. His face a mask of professionalism 

"Then can you do me the honour of explaining why you insist on ignoring me when I speak." She asked, attention half turned to the sewing in her hands.   
Castiels jaw worked awkwardly, before clearing his throat. 

“It isn’t done for a man in my position to attempt to court a Lady in yours, your Ladyship.” He said, voice pressured. 

Meg looked up to his distressed face, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Is that what you were doing? I thought we had simply cultivated a friendship.” She said, eyes dancing with unspoken mirth. 

Castiel appeared unimpressed. “If you were found to be alone, with your legs bared whilst lying next to a footman, then your reputation would be ruined M’Lady. I cannot allow a repeat.” He answered stiffly. 

Megs mirth faltered. “Then we sharnt lie bare legged in the woods any longer.” She said, looking away in embarrassment at the insinuation. “I had not realised that I had caused you such discomfort. 

Castiel remained silent, though Meg noted his posture became somewhat slumped as she returned to her craft in a discontented silence until a gong rang a short while later. She placed it aside as she gathered her courage. 

"Tell me, Sir." She said in a quavering voice. "Had you not my reputation in the forefront of your mind, would you wish to tolerate my company further?" 

Castiel looked ahead, leading Meg to believe he was ready to ignore her further until he gave a small nod. “Had I the status of a Lord or even a gentleman, I would hope you would find me a regular caller.” He said, turning to look at her. 

"With your status as footman, I hope to find you a regular caller." She answered, swallowing fearfully. "It is nobody’s business but my own who’s company I keep, and I wish to keep yours." 

Castiels resolve crumbled as he looked down into her hopeful eyes. He gave a soft sigh, looking away from her. “As you wish, Meg.” He said with an air of finality. 

The pleased smile had returned to Megs face, along with pink spots high on her cheeks. “I’ll try to get away to the woods tomorrow. Will you join me?” She asked hopefully. 

Castiel shook his head. “I am afraid I am to help in the garden tomorrow.” He said quietly. “I can join you Friday afternoon.”  
Meg nodded agreeably, taking off her glove to offer her hand. “Until Friday, Castiel.”

Castiel took her hand, kissing her knuckles softly as he looked up into her eyes, making Megs stomach wriggle as if it contained a hundred mice. “Until Friday.” He whispered in return


	4. Back to the woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Meg..." He said softly, distress colouring his face. "You are a sweet, lovely young woman." He looked away once more. "You make it very difficult for me to find reasons not to pursue you."

Meg woke with a start on Friday morning, her heart pounding with excitement even as the sun had barely risen. She pulled the drape by her bed, ringing the bell for her lady's maid. 

"Good morning your ladyship." Jessica said respectfully, bobbing a curtsy. "It's unusual to see you awake at this hour." 

"You may fetch me a breakfast tray, I'll eat early today." She said, sitting to address her. "Then please make a lunch, for two, and leave it wrapped by the back gate. It's important that this is done in utmost secrecy." She said with a warning glance.

"M'lady..." Jessica said nervously, her eyes skittering over the bed. "Are you sure that a luncheon for two with no other escort is wise?" 

Meg looked over her reproachingly. "I am too aflutter at the moment to engage in argument, Jessica. If you do as I say I will take you into my confidence this evening." she sat up in her bed, yanking back the covers. 

"Before you go down, draw the water and lay out the white with the short mint jacket." Meg said, pulling her hair from its restraining plait into a shock of curls. 

As Jessica went into the dressing room, Meg took a moment to undress, wrapping her dressing gown around her. Jessica seemed to be the trustworthy sort, though was lamentably not French. She quickly bathed and dried before impatiently waiting for her nervous maid to finish putting her hair into its usual style. 

"I hope you know what you are doing your ladyship." She said softly, twisting her hands. 

"I expect I don't." Meg replied with a short laugh, dismissing her before going to choose a book. 

Before long, Meg found herself sneaking alongside the garden wall, smiling as she found the basket Jessica had laid there for her. She picked it up, half skipping away to the woods, sneaking over the bramble to go to her secret hideaway. 

With respect for her friends apparent gentlemanly sensibilities, she sat in a more refined, ladylike manner than previously, letting her skirts cover her all the way to her ankles before uncovering her basket to show the selection of cheeses and meats Jessica had managed to sneak away from them. Hearing the snap of a twig, she looked up, delighted to find the imposing figure of Castiel stood over her. 

"You came." She smiled, patting the log next to her. "I had rather thought you'd change your mind. 

"I rather thought I might too." Castiel admitted, taking off his cap to turn over in his hands. 

"But Sir, how would you properly court me if you were not willing to so much as take tea with me?" She teased, smiling wider at Castiels flush. 

"I shouldn't have said such a thing." He said, crouching to sit next to her at arms length. "It was inappropriate of me to make a connection of such a manner between us." 

"Inappropriate? Why sir? You are a man, and I am a woman. We are of similar ages. Would such a connection not be natural?" She asked, reaching to take a bottle of lemonade from the basket, placing it in the stream to chill. 

"Yes, it could be, but you know of what I speak your ladyship. It would not be seen as well in your circles." Castiel said, turning his head away gruffly. 

"I'm not sure I care for what is seen as well in my circles." Meg said flippantly. "For all that is seen as well in my circles is dullness and repetition." 

Castiel lapsed into silence, looking away for a few minutes before looking back up into Megs face. 

"Meg..." He said softly, distress colouring his face. "You are a sweet, lovely young woman." He looked away once more. "You make it very difficult for me to find reasons not to pursue you." 

Meg flushed with pleasure. "Then stop finding reasons. I am finding it very wearisome to be doing all the pursing myself." 

Castiel gave a soft laugh, looking up at her with amusement clear in his eyes, the young country boy he truly was clear in his face rather than the solemn footman that graced the manor halls. 

Megs heart beat faster as she took in the crinkles of his face, feeling half faint with how handsome she found him. 

"I would very much like to court you, Meg." He said finally, "I find you... Rather wonderful." 

Meg looked away, pretending to consider his request. "I believe I could submit to being courted by you, Castiel." she said, turning back to look at him with a softer smile. 

Castiel nodded, inching closer. His eyes flickered over her face to her lips. "May I kiss you?" He asked, hand reaching up to hover over her face. 

"You may." She whispered back, leaning into him, their lips finally touching softly. She felt like she may just melt into him, sighing contentedly as his warm mouth moved slowly against hers, his hand cupping her cheek lightly as her own gripped the root of the tree she sat against. All too soon it was over, and she pulled back to find herself looking into those blue eyes once more. 

"Castiel?" She murmured breathlessly. "Are you well? You're trembling." Her hand cupped his elbow as she looked up to him in concern. He nodded, licking his lips as he looked down at her

"Yes. I am well. I just fear I could very easily fall in love with you, your ladyship." He whispered, leaning forward to gently take her mouth once more.


	5. Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel blinked at the letter, breathing rapidly until he almost felt he could faint. A hand landed on his shoulder. "Mr Novak, are you quite well?" The butler asked in concern. Castiel handed over the letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would be so grateful for any feedback that you could leave me. What do you like, what don't you? Areas for improvement?

"Letter for you Mr Novak." The butler said, handing over a large envelope to Castiel, raising an eyebrow. 

Castiel frowned. He had nobody who would send him mail. He opened it, shoving the last morsel of bread from his lunch into his mouth. 

"To Mr Castiel Novak

We are writing to you with deepest regret to inform you of the death of your uncle, Charles Novak." 

Castiel frowned deeper. He was aware of an uncle Charles, but could not remember him past vague childhood memories of a kindly face similar to his fathers. He had lost contact with his uncle after the death of his father, causing him a stab of regret on hearing this news. 

"You remain Mr Novaks nearest surviving relative, and henceforth are the sole beneficiary of his will." 

Castiels mouth ran dry, heart beating faster. 

"We enclose a cheque for the sum of £1000, that which is left over after taxes and fees. For any further discussion, do not hesitate to write to us. 

Yours Sincerely, 

Turner and Turner Solicitors." 

Castiel blinked at the letter, breathing rapidly until he almost felt he could faint. A hand landed on his shoulder. "Mr Novak, are you quite well?" The butler asked in concern. Castiel handed over the letter. 

"Mr Singer. I don't know what I should do." He whispered, face pale. 

The butlers eyebrows raised higher and higher, before finally looking down at Castiel. 

"Son, if you want me to advise you, I would invest it in the mills of the North. There is quite the upcoming revolution in terms of innovation there, and I think you would find a high return." 

Castiel nodded rapidly. "Yes. Yes of course." He spluttered. "But... But how?" 

"Would you care for me to do it for you. I find space in my purse to invest a small amount each year. I can do it alongside my own if you wish it." Mr Singer offered, clapping his shoulder. 

"That would be tremendously kind Mr Singer." Castiel breathed gratefully. 

Mr Singer nodded gruffly in acknowledgement. "Very well. But until you've made your millions, there is silver in the kitchen that requires your attention." He said, nodding in the direction as he took the cheque, folding it into his inside pocket


	6. Invitations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A letter, your Ladyship." He said pompously, looking straight ahead before his eyes swivelled to meet hers, a mischievous smile crossing his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please can I impose on you to ask for any reviews. I haven't recieved any yet, and I would be so grateful for any feedback.

"Letter for Lady Megan." Mr singer said, placing the crisp envelope onto the silver tray. "It's marked as urgent." He tutted to himself. "Probably a love letter from some poor unfortunate boy who's decided he's in love with her." 

Castiel swallowed, scowling at the shoe which he was polishing on newspaper. It was inevitable that Meg would get further suitors. It was something he would have to learn to live with. 

"Jessica?" Mr Singer shouted along the hallway. "Where is that girl?" 

Castiel looked up from his polishing. "She's out ironing Lady Megan's clothes." He said quickly. "She'll take some time to tidy up enough to be seen above stairs. I could take it if you wish." 

Mr Singer sighed. "Well quick then boy, wash your hands and take it." He snapped, placing the tray on the table. 

Castiel quickly did as he was bid, scrubbing his nails free of the black polish, before taking the tray, balancing it on his fingers as he has been shown, before rushing up the stairs, slowing before making his way out into the world of the aristocracy. 

He knocked politely at the door of Lady Megan's private sitting room, waiting to be called to enter before opening the door, shutting it behind him. 

"A letter, your Ladyship." He said pompously, looking straight ahead before his eyes swivelled to meet hers, a mischievous smile crossing his lips. 

"Why Thank you, footman." Meg replied airily, as a similar smile crossed her face, causing Castiels heart to swell in his chest. "I'm afraid I must detain you from your duties until I have read it and decided if I should reply." 

"Of course my Lady." He said in return, crossing the room and bending at the waist to allow Meg to take the letter. 

She took it from him with a lingering glance, her eyelashes batting prettily, before breaking the seal. Her looked down to read quickly, her face falling as her eyes quickly cast back and forth. She finally tossed the letter to her desk, resting her forehead on her fingers anxiously. 

"Meg?" Castiel whispered, crouching down next to her, taking her hand in his. "What is it?" A small part of him danced for joy, the letter was obviously not well received, meaning that whoever was attempting to court Lady Megan was not winning her good favour. 

Meg turned to look up at him, hand reaching to smooth down his hair. "This letter is from Lord Chamberlain, inviting me to the debutantes ball." She gave him a small sad smile. "With my older sister marrying, my mother must be eager to get me into London for the season." She swallowed, looking down at the letter. "We will promenade, and we will go to the opera, and she will work in every way to find me a husband." 

Castiels head bowed to rest in her lap. "Meg, this cannot be." He whispered softly, squeezing her thighs as if she was meant to be taken from him at any moment. 

"I shall speak to my father. I am still young to be married, and perhaps as his youngest and most favoured daughter he will force my mother to allow me a season or two without the threat of impending engagement hanging over my head." She said hopefully, fingers running through his hair. "All is not lost yet, Castiel." 

He turned his face to look up at her. "But in a season or two it may be. In a season or two I will be forced to serve at a banquet celebrating your marriage. I will have to watch your husband kiss you, and throw rose petals over you as he takes you to his bed." He worried, stomach churning at the thought of another man taking this girl from him. 

Meg had no words of comfort for him. "But that is the way things must be." She said softly. "In time when I have birthed an heir, then I may take a lover. It would not be greatly unusual for it to be a footman, or a butler. 

Castiel shook his head, burying his face in her skirts. "You must wait for me to become a gentleman worthy of your hand." He demanded. 

Meg gave a short laugh, looking down at him incredulously. "Forgive me." She said, face softening to something kinder. "But my mother would not accept a husband who lives on less than ten thousand a year. You would have to make millions for your bonds to furnish you with that amount." 

"Then that's what I will do." He said, standing, kissing her cheek resolutely. "I will become a millionaire for you Lady Megan. Then when I approach your father to ask for your hand he would not dare turn me away." 

Meg gave a flushed smile, folding her hands in her lap. "Very well, Mr Novak. I will arrange a wedding for the spring of three years hence." She said, tilting her head. "Though I fear that we must never be alone now, for my future husband is very concerned for my chastity." 

Castiel blushed slightly. "Indeed he is, Lady Megan." He murmured softly, cupping her cheek as he looked into her eyes. "He's a very jealous man who cannot be held accountable should another man ever touch you." 

Meg shivered under his touch, meeting his gaze. "Then I must ensure only my husband ever be allowed to know me intimately." She whispered back to him. 

Castiel brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, nodding softly. "I must get back to my duties, m'lady." He said, bowing to her. 

Meg seemed to shake herself from her revere. "Yes. You must go." She agreed, turning back to her desk. "I shall reply later, after I have been to see my father."

Castiel took several steps back to a more appropriate distance, before bowing to her, winking as he backed out of the room.


	7. Private thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looked up at the ceiling, swallowing, trying to resist, until finally justifying that what he thought in private moments was his own business, and not a reflection of any carnal lust he felt for the young woman.

Castiel groaned as he climbed the steep stair to his room. The ball had gone on until the early hours and his back ached with the strain of standing straight and bowing to every Earl and Lord who had deemed him worthy enough to take a flute of champagne from. 

At least he had seen Meg. His lovely Meg, however briefly. It was important to not arouse suspicion, and therefore all they had shared that evening were a few lingering glances. Jealousy had pooled in his stomach as he was forced to watch her dance and make conversation with other men, men who were much better suited to her. 

He shut his bedroom door behind him, leaving him in the privacy of his tiny attic bedroom. He stretched thoroughly, taking the jacket of his livery off his shoulders and laying it over his chair, ready to be brushed down and reused tomorrow. The rest would have to be washed, sweat staining the white cotton of his collar and underarms yellow. 

He cracked the window open, sighing contentedly as the cool air hit his heated skin like a balm, before turning to fall face down in his bed. He lay still for a moment before shuffling up enough to lay his head on his pillow, punching it enough to be comfortable. 

His thoughts soon wandered to Meg. She had looked enchanting in her satin, gold beads adorning her chestnut curls. He rolled onto his back, licking his lips as his thoughts turned more sinful. He remembered just the other day when his face pressed against her thigh as he begged for her to refuse any proposals of marriage. 

His chest heaved as his hand guiltily made its way down his chest. Her leg was so soft and warm pressed against his face. He imagined what it would feel like to hold it in his hand, to be able to touch and knead at her thighs, pulling them apart, spreading them wide underneath him. 

His breath shuddered, pausing even as his cock stiffened to full hardness. Meg was a lady, it was sinful to think of her in such ways. 

He looked up at the ceiling, swallowing, trying to resist, until finally justifying that what he thought in private moments was his own business, and not a reflection of any carnal lust he felt for the young woman. 

His hand finally slid down to grip around his length, thinking of her thighs. They would surely be plump and creamy, able to grip snugly around his hips. His trembled, arching up into his own touch as he thought of pressing her against one of the trees in the forest where they had met, pulling the front of her dress lower to expose her pert breast, dusky nipple erect and ready to latch onto. 

Oh, the noises she would make as he swirled his tongue around it, suckling gently, cherishing each gasp of pleasure he coaxed from her. Castiel had to bite his lip to prevent pleasures gasps of his own. The walls were thin and it would be an embarrassment if any of his colleagues were to hear him engaging in such activities. Her hands would curl through his hair, at once innocent and needy, wanting him, but not entirely sure of what her body was calling for. 

His hands would pull up her skirts, fingers sliding under the band of her beautifully white bloomers to cup her heated sex. She'd moan for him, and he'd give the wriggling girl under him what she needed, his talented fingers slipping over her delicate bud, sending her into raptures. 

Castiels hand moved faster, jaw clenched as he silenced any sound he might make. He thought of her wet heat, and immediately had to imagine being inside her, bloomers discarded. His hands would squeeze at her flexing buttocks as her thighs gripped him. His hand slowed as he savoured what it would be like to press into her for the first time, to feel the stretch and tear of her maidenhead as proof he was the one to take her into womanhood. 

Of course he'd hold her, kiss her gently through her discomfort. A small rueful smile played on his lips as he realised his regard was such for Meg that he couldn't ever gloss over any of her distress even in his fantasies. 

As she became more comfortable, he would begin to rock into her once more, his hand matching the pace he intended. He thought of the pleasured squeaks the girl would make as his pelvis rubbed against her sensitive spot on every thrust. She'd call his name, fingers stroking through his hair and gripping his shoulders as she cried out for more, needing more of the base pleasure that only Castiel could bring to her. 

His breath became ragged as he thought of her face burying in his neck, fingernails digging into his back as she tightened around him, crying out her release. His hand jacked quickly, hips jerking up to meet it as he came over his hand, gulping for breath. 

His eyes flew open as the last spurt left him. He couldn't finish inside her, it could lead to disaster, to scandal. He panicked for a moment before coming back to reality, the fantasy so vivid that he had lost himself in it.

He gave a half shuddered laugh as he looked down over his stomach, messy with his own release. He let his head fall back against the pillow, breathing out a long breath as the ceiling came back into view. 

He picked up a towel from the floor, guiltily wiping himself down and making a note to himself to confess to this sin next time he went to church lest his soul be damned, before dropping it once more and curling onto his side. His eyes slid closed, body sleepily content and sated as he drifted to sleep.


	8. Fitted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megs heart thundered as she rubbed the cool smooth silk between thumb and forefinger. She could give it to Castiel, to show him the dress she would be wearing when she visited the queen. There was no way of him ever seeing her dress, but this would suffice.

Meg felt a thrill of guilty pleasure as she stepped up onto the stool. The room was bright, though dusty, and the sunlight pouring through the high windows illuminated the dust motes floating through the air. The sound of horses hooves and the rabble of many talking at once came from outside, never letting Meg forget the she was in the fashionable side of London City. 

Surrounding her were three large mirrors, showing her stood in only her slip and petticoat, ready to be fitted for the dress in which she would be presented to the queen. The dressmaker flew around her, pinning pieces of material to her, white silk strips forming as if by magic to make her debutante dress. 

She watched as the pieces were carefully attached to her slip, wondering at how they all seemed to fit together as if in a jigsaw, without really giving any clue as to its true shape. 

There were many rolls of material on dark wooden shelves, some stacked as high as the ceiling, and Meg wondered how they had found the material for her own dress at all. Her eyes followed as a thin strip fell from her shoulder, snipped away to fit her better. 

"May I take that?" She asked, gesturing. The dressmaker looked down before looking back up at her again questioningly. "I wish to remember the cloth between fittings." Meg said as way of explanation. The woman nodded, lifting the piece to press into her hand. 

Megs heart thundered as she rubbed the cool smooth silk between thumb and forefinger. She could give it to Castiel, to show him the dress she would be wearing when she visited the queen. There was no way of him ever seeing her dress, but this would suffice. 

"She must have the full eight ostrich feathers like her sister." Her mother said firmly to the assistant. "I will not have anyone at court attempt to cause gossip about our status." She said, before turning back to her daughter. "Megan you will look breathtaking." She said, clasping her hands together in delight. "If only your father had thought to allow you to seek a husband, you would have been proposed to immediately I'm sure. Are you terribly disappointed?" 

Meg looked down at her, a small smile playing at her lips as her mother took her hand. 

"I will endure being unmarried for a few more years for my fathers comfort." She said softly, turning back to look at her reflection as the dressmaker and her assistant lifted an incredibly large hoop over her head, securing around her waist before allowing it to fall to the floor, once again starting to trim it with fabric. 

"You are a good, selfless girl, Megan." Her mother said, cupping her face. The pride in her eyes causing a small amount of guilt to pool in Megs stomach. If she knew of her secret liaisons with a footman, she would surely take to her bed to nurse her fragile nerves, sending Meg to Scotland or some far flung place in the meantime, her mothers pleasure in her correct behaviour was completely misplaced. 

Deflated, Meg turned back to the mirror, watching as expensive silks were draped over the hoops, pinned carefully into place as the assistant pulled up a larger chair, starting to arrange ostrich feathers in her hair. Ruffles and swags appeared under her mothers demanding guidance, the dress somehow taking shape. 

She grimaced, the heavy weight pulling at the back of her hair, the ostrich feathers weighing her down. "Mother I do not possess the delicacy of my sister, how will I curtsy to her majesty whilst holding such a weight." She worried, looking into the mirror with a frown. 

"Don't fret, child." Her mother soothed. "You will practice." She turned to look at her daughter through their reflection with warm eyes. 

Meg swallowed and nodded, the large feathers in her hair rustling and threatening to fall free. Her mother made a distressed noise in her throat, standing to make her still. 

"You must remember not to nod on the day." She said urgently. "It wouldn't do for one of your feathers to fall free atop the queen." She said, horrified. Meg stifled a smile at the thought, before sobering. 

The appointment passed quickly in a wave of crinoline and ruffled silks. The hoops weighed heavy around her waist, the skirt large and her head dress heavy. She thanked God that she would only have to wear it one day, though pride told her she looked a beauty in it. 

Finally she was back in her own dress, fastening the gold buttons of her cloak as she turned to leave the shop. 

The dressmaker handed her mother a slip of paper. "You may come for it to be fitted properly in two weeks." She said with a short bow. "You honour us with your custom your ladyship." 

Her mother inclined her head imperiously. "Do not make my trust misguided" she said, before sweeping out the shop. Meg took a moment to give a friendlier smile and a short curtsy before following. 

She walked beside her mother, lost in a daydream. If only Castiel were to see her in her new gown. She was unsure if he would be impressed. She liked to think that he would find her beautiful in it, but perhaps he would dislike the ostentatiousness. 

She climbed into the awaiting carriage, helped by a footman. It soon rolled out of the well heeled district with its fenced trees and clean pavement, and into the suburbs, becoming dirtier with soot as they went, the clothing of the people passing becoming dirtier and thinner. She sat, lost in her own thoughts as she looked out the window. There was such poverty in the city, she thought to herself with a frown. Did Castiel have this kind of start in life? She wondered as she watched filthy barefoot children play in the street.

She sat back against the plush lining of the carriage bench, inhaling deeply. What must he think of her, with her rich food and silk dresses. She pressed her lips together in worry. Did he feel secret distain at her life of luxury? She looked down at her hands. A single item of her family jewels would transform the life of one of these people, and yet she selfishly hoarded them. 

Too soon the carriage stopped, shaking Meg from her thoughts. Once again she was helped down, waiting for her mother before walking up the steps to the hotel in which they were staying, forcing her worried brow smooth as she found herself in public once more.


	9. Pianoforte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once out of sight, she practically danced up to her room. She only had to hide for an hour or so, claim that she felt better, find a reason for Castiel to leave below stairs, and the afternoon would be theirs.

Meg watched as the hunting party readied themselves, servants and landed gentry alike scurrying around, making sure that the weapons were cleaned, with enough ammunition to last the day, the maids securing the last of the lunchtime feast to the servants wagon. Excitement was in the air in anticipation of the first hunt of the year, a day long occasion that would leave the kitchen pantry stocked with game, and the cheeks of every man and woman ruddy with rude good health. 

Meg sipped at her tea, watching dispassionately. She didn't take much enjoyment in watching the men hunt, and even less in being forced to make polite conversation with their wives whilst seated ramrod straight. She would be the only unbetrothed female in the party, she realised, restraining a sigh as her eyes flickered over the party. She would be expected to smile and simper at the unattached males of the group, ushered toward them by overbearing mothers determined that they should make a good match. She would have have no choice but to fan her face and blush at their complements. She frowned, taking out her fan to politely hide her unhappy expression. 

"Megan, what is wrong?" Her Mother asked, pausing in her instruction to the servants. 

Meg looked up, ready to explain away her bad mood with some small trivial matter when Castiel came from around the corner, evidently having left from the servants quarter. He handed a gun to one of the male servants, catching her eye and giving a small smile, before turning back. Megs bad mood evaporated as she saw he was still in his livery rather than his outdoor uniform. He was to be left behind at the house, along with a bare skeleton staff. 

"Mother, I am sorry but I don't believe I am well enough to come on this expedition." She said, looking up at her mother and forcing a disappointed expression onto her face. "I have a headache, and I'm afraid I feel quite weak. I would be terribly embarrassed if I was to faint in front of the gentlemen." She lied easily

Her mother reached down to stroke cool fingers over her cheek. "You do look rather flushed, child." She said with concern. "You must take to your bed. You are quite right, a fit of the vapours would not be good for your reputation."

Meg nodded. "I'm sorry Mother. I feel most disappointed in not being able to join. I had looked forward to the trip." 

Her mother looked down at her fondly, forcing guilt to twist in Megs stomach. "Sweet child. There will be other trips. I am most pleased to have such a sensible girl for a daughter." 

Meg nodded, standing delicately. "Allow me to excuse myself to the party." She said, bowing her head in a curtsy to her mother before walking over to the assembled men. 

"Gentlemen, it ails me to inform you that I will be unable to make the trip today." She said, looking round at the faces whom were now gazing at her with concern. 

"My Lady?" Lord Winchester questioned, his dark hair catching in the wind, frowning with upset, having looked forward to entertaining the young woman. 

"I have taken ill." She said simply, not giving any further information, looking away to indicate her embarrassment. 

The men cleared their throats, looking at each other awkwardly. 

"Very well m'lady. Your presence will be missed." Lord Winchester said, his brother clearing his throat and nodding, prompting the other men into nodding politely, bowing as she curtsied and left, catching the gentlemens lowered voices about her feminine delicacy as she left. 

Once out of sight, she practically danced up to her room. She only had to hide for an hour or so, claim that she felt better, find a reason for Castiel to leave below stairs, and the afternoon would be theirs. As far as she could see, only the cook, the housekeeper, Mr Singer the butler, Castiel, her own maid, and the kitchen maids left behind. There was no reason for anyone to be above stairs, she thought, gleefully, watching the men ride down the road until they were out of sight. 

She sat at her table, hands twitching with excitement, deciding to pass the time by replying to her correspondence, but she found herself unable to concentrate, eyes constantly swivelling up to check the time. Finally nearly an hour had passed, and she took a deep breath to force herself to settle before pulling the cord to summon Jessica. 

She appeared only a minute or so later at the doorway. "My lady, how do you feel?" She asked warmly. 

Meg turned, giving a small smile. "Much recovered, thankyou." She said, nodding. "I had a fancy to paint in the library. The gardens look particularly fine from that view." She said, silently adding that there was no way to look in those windows without being directly In front of them, the room serving her needs well. "Could you please organise my things in there, as well as some refreshments. I will be down shortly." 

Jessica nodded, leaving Meg aflutter with excitement. The library also contained a piano. In passing conversation, Castiel had told her he had learnt to play in his fathers Inn to entertain the locals, and was adept at reading music. It was the perfect excuse to be left alone with him. 

Meg forced herself to walk slowly down the stairs, her heels clicking on the wooden floor and echoing as she made her way to the library, the door creaking as she opened it. 

"Thankyou Jessica." She said gratefully, sitting on the sofa and pouring tea as she watched her maid set up her easel. "Do you not find the house to be unbearably quiet when it is this empty?" She asked conversationally, lifting the cup to her lips. 

Jessica smiled at her, unfolding Megs apron to protect her clothes from paint. "I find it peaceful Ma'am. Like the house is sleeping." 

Meg looked at her fondly, enjoying the girls imagination. "I find it lonely." She said, placing the cup aside and putting her apron on, allowing her eyes to stray across to the piano. "Is there anyone on the staff who can play piano?" She asked lightly, turning to look at Jessica. 

She furrowed her brow in thought. "I believe there's a footman named Castiel who does." She said, tilting her head. "But Mr Singer has set him tasks for the afternoon. 

Meg raised both her eyebrows. "Well tell Mr Singer that I require him." She said, with an encouraging smile. "You could possibly pick up his work? It could only be polishing something or other, could it not?" 

Jessica nodded slowly. "If it pleases you m'lady." She said, bobbing a curtsy. 

"Thankyou Jessica. I am much obliged." She said, turning to look at her paper, dipping her brush into the water as her maid left. 

After fifteen minutes, just as Meg began to worry that Mr Singer had refused, a knock sounded at the door. 

"Enter." She called, a smile spreading over her lips as she continued to face away, looking out over the gardens and skilfully painting some lupins. 

Heavy footsteps sounded over the wooden floor until she felt warm breath on the back of her neck, a hand coming to rest on her waist. 

"You clever, sneaky little thing." Castiels deep voice whispered into her ear, reverberating with amusement. "Mr Singer is below stairs completely at a loss as to why you'd request music, but was satisfied that Jessica was sent in my stead." 

Meg turned, smiling up at him as she placed a hand on his chest. "Do you think me wicked to come up with such a ruse?" She asked, a mischievous smile crossing her face. 

"How can I think you wicked when the benefactor is myself." He murmured, pulling her closer until their lips met gently in a soft sweet kiss. 

Meg pulled away, looking up at him with starry eyes, almost breathless with excitement. "We have an entire day to do as we please." She said excitedly, her smile fading slightly as she caught Castiels uncertain expression. 

"I should still play the piano." He said softly. "Someone could happen past, and wonder why there is no music causing them to come and check." 

Meg frowned, realising the flaw in her plan. "You're right." She said softly, "Though maybe in a short while. I need a little time to become reacquainted with you." 

Castiel gave a short bow, smirking softly at her as he pulled her closer, gripping her tightly; both as if she were a common girl, and as if he were afraid she would escape. After several long moments of desperate kisses he pressed his forehead to hers. "Meg, the things you do to me." He whispered as he claimed her mouth once more. 

Meg gave a squeak of surprise, unused to being handled so roughly, before melting wantonly into his kiss, a soft moan escaping her. 

Her excited moan shot straight to Castiels cock, and he pulled her closer, hand reaching up to curl into her hair, needing to feel her soft warm body pressed close to him, her sweet floral scent invading his nose and clouding his mind. 

Megs hands fisted into his shirt, before pulling back, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and swollen lips. "Castiel?" She questioned softly. 

He looked down at her, his chest heaving with need as his cock swelled in his breeches. "Meg." Was all he could manage in reply, throat dry. "I want... Ungentlemanly things from you. Intimate things that should only take place in the marital bed." 

Megs lips parted, looking up at him with arousal clear in her eyes. "Show me." She whispered. 

Castiel stepped back, provoking a noise of irritation from the back of Megs throat, the girl clearly unused to being refused anything. "Play." He said, gesturing to the piano. 

Meg scowled at him. "But..." 

"Play." Castiel interrupted in a firm voice, brooking no argument. 

Meg scowled at him for a moment longer, before stomping over to the piano, ripping the music from the folder and slamming it onto the prop, angered at him for teasing her so. She wanted his touch, his kiss, but now he told her to play as if he were her grandfather. 

Before she could sit, Castiel cleared his throat. "Are you wearing bloomers?" He asked, looking heatedly into Megs eyes. 

"Yes." She answered, jutting her chin out defiantly, even as her cheeks coloured in embarrassment at the mention of her undergarments.

"Remove them before you sit." Castiel told her in a level voice, even as his nerves jangled. She could send him away and have him sacked for even mentioning her underthings. Kissing a servant for the thrill was completely different to allowing one access to what should be saved for a husband. 

Meg swallowed nervously, before turning away from him modestly lifting the front of her skirt before wriggling out of her underwear, folding the articles before placing them over the back of the sofa and looking at him expectantly. 

"Now, play." He said, gesturing invitingly. 

She looked at him confused, but did as he bid, her clever fingers dancing over the ivories as she played one of her favourite pieces. After a moment, he came to sit by her, facing the opposite direction. "You play beautifully, Meg." He whispered, lips ghosting over her neck, causing her to stop abruptly. "I didn't said stop." He chastised lightly. 

Meg panted, as she looked at him with shining eyes. "It is difficult to concentrate when you touch me so." She whispered back, touching her lips to his. Every brush of his fingers sent fire to her belly, the same fire that she felt most nights when she lay awake imagining his kisses, fire that she had yet to learn how to extinguish. 

"You must." He said, boldly reaching around her waist to cup her breast, thumb stroking over her concealed nipple. "You don't wish for someone to walk in, do you?" He asked. 

Meg shook her head, continuing playing as she looked into his eyes, the piece so loved and often recited, it was committed to memory. 

"Good girl." Castiel murmured, returning attention back to her neck, as he pulled the front of her dress down. He pulled his hand away for a moment, sucking his thumb into his mouth for a second before cupping her breast once more, stroking his spit slick, calloused thumb over her erect nipple. 

Meg suppressed a moan, missing a key as her breath shuddered, biting her lip. "There is such pleasure to be found in the martial bed." She breathed, looking at him, as she continued playing, her pussy throbbing desperately, crying out for attention. 

"There is yet more." He said with a lusty smile, standing before crawling under the piano, coming up between her legs. 

She looked down curiously, trembling as he lifted her skirt, disappearing under it. Meg flushed scarlet, legs automatically squeezing together as she felt hot breath touch her most intimate area. 

Strong hands, rough from work stroked up her inner thighs, gently easing them back apart, squeezing reassuringly. "Do you wish for me to stop?" He asked, his every exhale landing on her slick, spread open folds, heating them even further. She throbbed desperately, causing her to whimper needily. 

"No." She whispered, as her fingers sped up, the music building alongside her excitement.

Castiel nodded, looking at her carefully, the light filtering through the muslin of her dress. He bowed his head, pressing his damp tongue gently to her clit, allowing her to feel only the tip. He smirked as she jerked, an incorrect note played as she gasped. He flicked over her clit again, hand coming off her trembling thigh to press at her entrance, he looked, suppressing a moan as he felt her hymen. He was the first to ever touch her like this, and the proof was under his fingertips. 

"Castiel, please." Her voice brought him back to his task. He was determined to focus on her pleasure, not his own. Her virginity was not meant for taking today. He bent once more, pressing his tongue against her clit harder this time, teasing done for now. Her moan was soft, her fingers still dancing over the keys as he swirled around her, fingers pumping shallowly inside her. 

Meg was unable to keep still, her eyes semi open as she still kept playing, the song growing faster, more passionate, as she rolled her hips, tightness growing in her stomach as she instinctively raced towards completion, intuitively knowing there was an edge to fall over that would be unimaginably pleasurable.

Castiel moved ever faster, gripping her thigh tightly as she played ever more notes wrong, breath coming faster, moans and needy whimpers louder and more desperate, tightness growing in her stomach, until both hands slammed down on the keys, sounding a cacophony of noise as she thew her head back, calves squeezing either side of his ribs as she came, seeing stars as she gasped for air, inner walls squeezing around his fingers. She had never known such pleasure, her hips jerked desperately, wanting more sensation, more of this delicious toe curling lust. 

He moaned as his lips nibbled at her clit, never stopping until he was certain she was done. She was so tight around just his fingers, those velvety walls wrapped around his cock would be enough to drive him mad. 

He pulled out, both from inside her and under her skirt, looking up at her with a glistening chin. She was unable to do anything except look completely debauched, breasts heaving and uncovered as she caught her breath, hair tousled, skirts around her waist as she looked down with flushed cheeks and bitten lips. 

"Is that what takes place in the marital bed?" She asked, gasping.

"That and more." Castiel said gently, crawling out from under the piano wiping his mouth on the leg of her bloomers, before handing them to her, watching as she stood on shaky legs to pull them on. She wobbled over to the teapot to pour a cup, flopping down on the sofa before sipping at it. 

Possessiveness coursed through him as he looked at the effects of what he had done to her. She was his. She had to be. He couldn't allow another man to see her like this. 

Meg licked her lips, looking up at him. "That's enough, for today at least. But next time, I want to learn more. I want to know how to please you too." She said finally after a few moments. 

Castiel nodded, walking over and bending at the waist to kiss her softly. "As you wish my lady."


	10. Lord Milton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I expect that I would refuse should Lord Milton propose." She said, draping the thin fabric over her arms. 
> 
> Her mother looked up sharply. "You will not." She said with a firm voice. "He is an accomplished man, and you would do well to remember that you cannot afford to be terribly fussy. Not with your wild ways, a man does not like a wife that takes herself away to dream when he speaks."

Megs days passed slowly, the warming weather and the additional hours of sunlight making them seem even longer. She found herself longing for the past winter, before her sisters engagement when she was still treated as a child. At Christmas she had been presented with a doll, but now that her sister was married, mere months later she was expected to behave as a woman.

She hadn't managed more than a single moment alone with Castiel in over two weeks, and the date of her move to London for the season and her separation from him was looming ever closer. The most she had managed was a chance meeting in a deserted corridor where they reaffirmed their affections for each other with wandering hands and clashing teeth before smoothing down their clothes and walking in opposite directions with longing glances. 

"Don't you think so, Megan?" Her mother asked, eyebrows raised expectantly. 

Meg glanced around, her cheeks flushing as she realised she had been caught in an explicit daydream. 

"I agree with Lord Milton." She said with a respectful nod of the head toward the man, who's lips twitched in a pleased smile. Michael Milton was a handsome man, with a large estate in Hertfordshire. Meg supposed she should find him attractive, as he was tall, with blue eyes and dark hair like Castiel, but where her lover had warm eyes, and a small but meaningful smile, Michaels eyes were cold, even when his mouth stretched in a selfish grin. 

She zoned out once more as his lips began to move again, finding herself staring at the cross stitch in her hands. Michael often talked at length about himself, requiring no input from his audience. It was only when her mother cleared her throat that Meg looked up.

"Lord Milton would you like to take a turn around our gardens?" She asked, her head turning towards Meg. "They are most beautiful at this time of year and nobody knows them better than Meg. She spends a lot of time out there enjoying the air." 

Lord Milton looked towards her, nodding his head. "I would enjoy that immensely Lady Masters. If you would not mind taking me Lady Megan." 

Meg gave a demure smile, giving an encouraging nod toward the man. "If you would just excuse me for a moment Lord Milton, I will ready myself and meet you in the hall." She said, standing. Lord Milton stood as she did, bowing before leaving the room. 

Meg walked over to the wall, pulling at the bell to alert a servant to attend with her bonnet and shawl. "Father says I don't have to marry this season." She said with a raised eyebrow at her mother. 

"He has ten thousand a year and an eye for your womanly form." Her mother replied pragmatically. "Just because you are not in a position where you /must/ marry, doesn't mean that you mustn't." 

Meg withheld a sigh as Jessica attended, anticipating Megs needs with a thin shawl and a bonnet to match, attending to her and dressing them prettily. 

"I expect that I would refuse should Lord Milton propose." She said, draping the thin fabric over her arms. 

Her mother looked up sharply. "You will not." She said with a firm voice. "He is an accomplished man, and you would do well to remember that you cannot afford to be terribly fussy. Not with your wild ways, a man does not like a wife that takes herself away to dream when he speaks." 

Meg clenched her jaw, looking away from her mother before curtly nodding, walking from the room quickly. 

Lord Milton looked up with a nod as she met him, offering his arm to her before leading her out into the gardens. "What is your favoured place?" He asked conversationally as they strolled. 

The woods. Meg replied internally, amusing herself by imagining Michaels scandalised face should she take him along to where she met Castiel, but no. That was their special place. For nobody else. 

"The lake is quite beautiful now the waterfowl have returned." She said with a small smile. "As a child I used to enjoy taking bread that cook gave me down to feed to them. I fancied myself their friend." 

Michael gave a small laugh, shaking his head condescendingly, sending a frisson of irritation through Meg. "You dear little thing." He said, as if she were a small child or a particularly intelligent dog. 

Meg turned her face away, looking at her feet. Any chance that she may have liked this man was dashed. She could not stand someone who would patronise her so. 

As if sensing her frosty reaction, he frowned. "It is a rather childish thought, Lady Megan." He began to quantify. 

"Then it is an appropriate one, as I was a child when I thought it." She said, interrupting him. 

His frown deepened. "Indeed." He answered finally, tone gruff. Meg turned to face ahead, already tired of the company. The atmosphere between them grew cold, their steps more urgent as they seemed to reach an agreement to make their encounter as short as possible. 

"Tell me about your home. Is it beautiful?" she asked finally as she became rather winded at their fast pace. She looked up at him, bending to her duty to at least tolerate her guest. 

Lord Michael looked down at her, pleased and surprised as he launched into a long winded monologue about the exact type of topiaries he had the maze in his grounds made from, allowing Meg to start her own daydreaming as long as she hummed and nodded in the correct places. She looked up into the blue of the sky, idly watching the swallows swooping until they came to the large manicured lake. She glanced up at Michael, his face more animated than she had ever seen it. He appeared to be enjoying her company more now that she was at least giving the appearance of being enraptured by him. 

"....all that Vanheath hall needs is a Mistress." Michael said, bringing Meg back to earth. She looked at him with sharp eyes as she let go of him to sit on a stone bench, arranging her skirt as a distraction.

He took a deep breath, sensing that he was losing her. "There are many rooms that are suitable for a woman, a wonderful bright sitting room that would belong to the Mistress of the house alone to peruse her interests or take visitors." He tried hopefully. 

Meg took out her fan, gently wafting a breeze over herself as she remained silent. The fabric hid her panic and the movement calmed her twitching hands.

Michael lapsed into awkward silence before sitting next to her "Lady Masters...Megan... I think what I'm.."

"I'd very much like to visit Vanheath." Meg interrupted, stopping Michael in his tracks. "My mother and father are planning to take me to enjoy the season in London." She said quickly, heart thundering in her chest. "I expect that they would be most pleased to take a few days to visit if that would be agreeable to you." 

Michael swallowed, looking unhappy at having his proposal cut short. "Yes... Yes that sounds very agreeable." He said, looking away to hide the frown on his face. 

Meg took a deep breath, not wishing to offend the man, causing him to cut her and her mother out of his circle entirely. Such a thing would be a black mark against her name in society. 

"After all, such a visit would be more enjoyable after I have been presented at court." she said significantly, hiding her face behind her fan coquettishly. 

Michael looked back with a more pleased look. Of course the girl wished to be presented at court before hearing proposals, that explained it. 

Meg breathed in relief as she watched understanding dawn in Michaels eyes. At least she had some space and room to manoeuvre. She had not outright accepted a courtship, but had not rejected him out of hand either. 

"Perhaps we should walk back to the house now." He said, offering his arm. "Your company has been most agreeable Lady Megan." 

Meg batted her eyelashes alluringly at him over the top of the fan. Of course he had enjoyed her company, she had remained silent and allowed him to drone on about himself as most high borne men did. 

They walked back in silence coming round the back of the building. Meg glanced up at the sound of laughter, spotting several of the servants stood by the servants entrance smoking. The moment they saw her they dropped their cigarettes, standing straight and respectful, bowing and curtsying respectfully. 

Her throat clenched, stomach feeling tight as she spotted Castiel amongst them, his blue eyes scoping over Michael before landing on her. Guilt twisted in her stomach as she looked back at him. 

"Please don't let me interrupt your break." She finally choked out. "It is I who has behaved badly by being here, not you." The pinched nervousness of the maids faces relaxed as they curtsied again disappearing inside with a chorus of "Thank you Lady Megan" whispered between them. 

Michael chuckled as they came back around to the front of the house. "You shouldn't spoil them so, they'll become idle and lazy if you treat them softly." 

Meg looked back up with slight amusement. "I have little experience I must admit, but if I were to be a servant, I would find pleasure in work under a good mistress, and would do as little as I could under a bad one." 

Michaels smile tightened under her disagreement. "Quite" he said finally, inclining his head. "I will take my leave now." He said after a moments silence. "Send your regards to your mother." 

Meg pulled her arm free, smiling at him and curtsying before turning to walk back into the hall.

Her mother was stood waiting, eyebrows raised expectantly. "Well?" She asked hopefully. "What did he talk about." 

Meg sighed, rolling her eyes as she removed her bonnet. "He tried to propose." She said, handing the bonnet off to the waiting Jessica. 

Her mother inhaled. "And did you accept?" She asked forcefully.

"I didn't let him ask. I negotiated him down to a visit to Vanheath." She said, turning away. 

Her mother made a noise of frustration as she gave her shawl to Jessica. 

"Mother I don't wish to accept a proposal before I'm even out in society." Meg said placatingly. "Lord Milton appeared to understand and said he would be our most gracious host for a week in the summer.

Her mother pressed her lips together. "You should have secured a proposal to a man such as Lord Milton as soon as you could." She said, disappointment clear in her tone. "Though I suppose an invitation to his home comes a full second." She waited until Jessica had disappeared with Megs clothing before approaching, pulling Megs hand through her arm as they made to walk back to the sitting room. 

"A visit to Vanheath may not be possible with the array of activities we have planned, though Lord Michael may visit us during the season. I'll write to invite him to stay the week after your presentation. I expect he will attempt a second proposal then." 

Meg swallowed, but finally nodded submissively. "But Mama. I don't know him. I don't even think I like him." 

Her mother shook her head. "You don't have to like him." She said firmly. "You just have to have his children and look presentable on his arm. If you are lucky, love will come with time. If you are not, then at least you will be furnished with a comfortable sitting room."


	11. The hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He pulled back, looking down at her with passionate eyes as she her chest heaved desperately. "Don't marry him." He said, voice pleading.

Meg walked up the stairs slowly, her breath coming in short huffs as she tried to process the new information. Her mother intended to have her married to Lord Milton, whether she would have him or not. 

She swallowed as she attempted to clear her mind. Lord Milton did not seem like he would be the most attentive of husbands. He would have her give him a few heirs and then likely leave her alone to dally with a mistress, all of which would suit Meg just fine. 

She was broken out of her reverie when a hand shot out of the servants entrance, dragging her inside. She tensed, ready to scream when a hand covered her mouth before looking up into distressed blue eyes. She relaxed and the hand was removed, replaced by warm, spit slicked lips. 

She moaned softly into the kiss, his hand coming up to tangle in her hair as she was pressed up against the wall, her fingers curling into the front of his shirt as she sank into his embrace.

He pulled back, looking down at her with passionate eyes as she her chest heaved desperately. "Don't marry him." He said, voice pleading. 

It took a moment for Megs to process his meaning, a slight frown between her eyebrows. "I may have to." She said softly, holding his gaze as her fingers played with his button. 

Castiel gripped her harder. "You can't. I forbid you to." He said firmly, leaning forward, his lips resting against her forehead. 

Megs mouth twitched, finding amusement in his words. "I am forbidden?" She asked, humour clear in her voice. 

He pulled back, looking at her. "You promised yourself to me. You promised that you would wait until I became rich enough to have you." He said with saddened eyes. 

She reached up to cup his cheek. "That may never happen, Castiel." She said softly. "This could be the best we could hope for." 

He hissed as looked away, anger marring his expression. "I will give him an heir and then take a lover. It is not unusual. We could be together then." 

Castiels eyes squeezed shut, distress passing over his face as his lips ghosted her cheeks. "I don't want you to give him an heir." He murmured. "I want you to give me an heir." 

Meg huffed laughter before meeting his lips once more. "This is perhaps a good thing. You have similar colouring. Your children could pass as his."

Castiel pulled back, teeth gritted together. "You expect me to sit back and watch as my children call another man father?" He asked, desperate fingers gripping her shoulder. "To look at me and see a servant. I can't do that Meg, I won't." 

She shook her head, expression falling more serious. "Then you had better hurry with your plan of becoming rich. I expect a proposal is imminent and I have been told I should not refuse." She said, stroking his face. 

Castiel nodded, hands coming up to cover hers. "I can't bare it, the thought of you lying with another man." He murmured. Meg gave a soft smile, tucking her head under his chin. 

"You shall be my first, and the only one I welcome." She said into the folds of his clothing, softened by wear. His hands stroked her back, before releasing him. 

"Perhaps I will be content with that." He murmured, pressing his lips to her temple before pulling away. "Go. Your maid will wonder where you are." 

Meg nodded, pulling his head down for a last kiss. "if perchance you should find yourself unable to sleep, you would be welcomed into my chambers." She said softly, an unladylike smirk crossing her face as she slipped through the door.


	12. To London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg watched as her trunks were placed on the back of the carriage. The summer had come with its hot sticky days and sultry nights much sooner than anticipated, and with it, the day she would travel to her family's London townhouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fairly short chapter, and mainly an interlude. Thankyou for the kudos and the reviews. They mean so much and motivate me to keep writing.

Meg watched as her trunks were placed on the back of the carriage. The summer had come with its hot sticky days and sultry nights much sooner than anticipated, and with it, the day she would travel to her family's London townhouse. 

She watched Castiels muscles strain under his livery as he lifted with a colleague. He was not part of the original party, only coming after a seed of doubt she placed in her mothers head about the dangers of a single woman travelling alone took life, and she insisted to her father that their largest footman should accompany their precious daughter on her first lone excursion 

She stepped forward as the trunks were snapped and secured, accepting castiels offered hand with barely a glance at him as she stepped into the carriage, allowing herself to look back at her childhood home, wondering if she would ever return as a single woman. 

Castiel had not managed to visit her chambers. It was both a relief and a frustration when he managed to catch her briefly to explain that Mr Singer had noticed some silver missing, and to be absent from his bed in the middle of the night would lead to him being cast in suspicion. Meg accepted the excuse without attempting to find an alternative. To proposition him in such a way was terribly forward. To press the issue would be desperate and whorish.

The ride was slow and exhausting, a overnight stay at a tavern only gave her a terrible nights rest, interrupted by singing patrons and worsened by a hard bed and scratchy woollen blankets. She had lay, looking through the curtainless windows at the low hanging moon wondering how she was meant to accept such hellish intolerable conditions.

It was a dishevelled and irritable Megan that finally arrived, sweating from heat, red eyed with exhaustion and irritable with lack of interaction. The servants had come out onto the steps to greet her, and she gave only the most cursory of acknowledgements before hiding away inside, requesting a bath to be drawn. 

Castiel watched her disappear inside the house, before riding the carriage round to the back of the house to unpack her luggage. He groaned as his head throbbed with a hangover. 

Unbeknownst to Meg, one of the voices that had kept her awake had been Castiels. What had started as Having some Dutch courage before stealing up the stairs to Megs chambers and taking the opportunity whilst they were both relatively unsupervised, had ended as leading a bawdy song and being tossed into bed in the early hours by the stable hands. 

The housekeeper took one look at him as he came downstairs after leaving the trunks in Lady Megan's room, the dress she arrived in hung over the back of the chair and the scent of her rose soap in the air the only tantalising glimpse that she had been there, and sent him straight to bed with a scolding about the evils of drink. Suitably chastised he unpacked, diligently dusting down his clothing before falling facefirst into bed and into a deep sleep.


	13. In the streets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel gave a soft sigh. "We can try, Meg, but I can't promise she will accept. People are proud, even in poverty." He said gently, leading her into the inky black street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowly bringing in more plot now.

It didn't take long until Meg was settled into the routine of the London season. Mornings would be spent receiving calls from the fashionable and well bred upper crust of the area and answering letters from her excited friends back home pleading for gossip and cursing their parents for making them wait another year. 

After a light luncheon she would change into her afternoon dress and often take a short nap or run errands. This was when time would move at its slowest, she was typically alone, but discouraged from engaging in the insular activities that she would usually pass the time with at home. 

Before dinner, she would promenade through one of London's many beautiful parks, parasol over her head to shield her from the sun, her skin staying it's unblemished white. It was tedious, making polite conversation under her mothers scrupulous gaze. The promenade was, as her mother reminded her each day, where she was constantly on show and under scrutiny. To put a foot wrong, a single trip or inappropriate gaze would mean social death. She was lucky so far to have maintained her dignity. 

In the evenings she would attend balls, or perhaps watch an opera with her social circle, stiff backed with a pair of glasses at her face as she watched and pretended to be entertained by large breasted women singing words she did not understand. Sometimes she would be lucky and catch one of her gentlemanly friends by the concession stand, and after a few moments of polite conversation she would allow her eyes to drift longingly to the chocolates there, containers beautifully decorated with painted roses and romantic scenes of gentlemen escorting ladies by a lake. More often then not, she would find a box on her chair when she returned. She would show disbelief and pleasure, cheeks flushing with delight to please the thoughtful young man. The treats helped to pass the time despite her mothers complaints about the size of her growing posterior, and Jessica was always grateful of the pretty boxes to keep her things in. 

Today, however, she had decided to visit Londons shopping district, to take a look at the finery that could be found in such a city. Boats came down the river every day with treasures from the empire, silks and spices, large exotic feathers for millinery and impossibly detailed embroidery on cashmere wraps. Her eyes had widened the first time her mother took her to the markets, never in her life had she seen so many different sights and sounds, the smell of onion frying in the air with coriander, men practically swinging full salmon around trying to entice passers by, and the women with quiet voice and dark eyes pressing trinkets into her hands. 

Her heart beat wildly as she felt Castiels eyes on her when she hopped up into the carriage. The footman had been sent by her mothers request to guard her and carry her purchases. She smiled to herself as she thought back to her mothers voice carrying down the corridor as she argued with her father, that Meg was insular enough, if she wanted to go out she would, but she wouldn't allow the gossip to say she was unattended. 

The carriage rumbled along the cobbles, through the slums of the city. Meg pressed her lips together, pulling the curtain aside. The smell permeated everything, forcing her to push a handkerchief up against her nostrils. Guilt settled in her stomach as she caught a glimpse of a woman, bawling infant clutched to her chest, screaming desperately as men walked from her home carrying a few sticks of furniture, she dropped the curtain as the woman started to cry, her purse suddenly feeling very heavy indeed. 

Meg did not dwell on the thought. The day passed with longing looks through mirrors when she emerged to have dresses fitted and fingers brushing as boxes were passed between hands, until the carriage was loaded, the horses pulling them back home. 

It was only when she sat in front of her mirror, Jessica pulling pins from her hair and readying her for bed that she thought of the crying woman, her dress tattered but clean, her child small but healthy enough to scream it's discontent. 

"My lady?" Jess questioned when she finally made eye contact through the glass, wondering at her mistresses silence. 

Meg reached up to her ears, removing the small jewels there, placing them on the table. "I'm just lost in thought Jessica." She said wearily, before turning to look up at her. "May I ask you a favour?" She asked, eyes pleading as she realised she had already chosen her course of action. 

Jessica tilted her head, crouching down beside her. "Of course my lady." She said, concerned. 

"May I borrow your cloak?" Meg asked, biting her lip. Her head span as she thought through her plan, her mental checklist blurring as she worked through it.

Jessica's eyebrows shot up. "Lady Megan... What are you planning?" She asked, a little shocked. She had imagined a request for sweets, or to be allowed to laze in the morning, not for her cloak. That suggested... More than suggested that Meg was to venture out alone. 

Meg shook her head "I can't tell you, but I need it. Please Jess." She asked, placing a hand on the maids shoulder. 

Jessica sighed, before nodding. "As you wish." She said, standing and turning to leave. Her heart felt heavy as she worried about her young mistresses welfare, if anything happened to her she would never forgive herself. 

"And Jess?" Meg said quickly, turning in her chair to look at her. "I'd appreciate it if this was kept between us." She raised her eyebrows significantly. 

"Of course my lady." Jess replied dubiously, curtsying before leaving. 

Meg found the cloak resting by the door when she finally worked up the courage to go down the darkened stairs, every noise she made seeming to echo in the large space. She slipped out the door, pulling the hood over her head as she walked swiftly down the avenue, the fenced trees shadowing her small figure easily. 

Despite what she had been told, she felt relatively safe until she reached the poorer parts of town. There were no cutthroats hanging around the richer districts, waiting to rob or molest any woman moving there freely like she had been told there would be. The letter opener she had taken to protect herself stayed safely sheathed in her boot, unused. 

In fact the first time she was spoken to at all was when she passed a public house. It was nearing closing time, and a rabble of loud cursing men were being thrown out. 

"'Ello darlin'" one man shouted in a broad cockney accent. "'Ows about you come over 'ere and give us a song" he yelled at her, ending with a filthy laugh.

Megs heart clenched as she crossed the road to avoid them, looking up at them uncertainly as she walked past to a chorus of catcalls and guffaws. 

She looked at their faces, ruddy and red nosed, and practically fainted as she saw a familiar face, blue eyes shining with good humour as he watched his companions laugh at her expense. 

She drew herself up to her full five feet, striding across to them with more authority and dignity than she felt, the shouts rising to an excited crescendo, until she pulled the hood down. 

"Castiel, isn't it?" She asked, looking into his face. "How do you intend to work tomorrow when you have been out until this hour?" She asked with an authority she did not feel. 

Castiels face immediately dropped, looking pale as he removed his hat, "It's my morning off tomorrow Lady Megan." He said, voice wobbling slightly. 

Meg felt a sick sense of satisfaction as he watched the faces of the other men fall, eyes widening and hats removed as they looked at her as meek as chastised kittens. 

"Indeed." She said, looking him up and down, before turning to look at the others. "Who are your friends?" She asked, eyes moving lazily over them before turning back to him. 

"My brothers Ma'am" he said nervously. "They work in the city too ma'am." 

"How interesting." She said, tone indicating it was anything but. "You may escort me to run an errand. I had been rather confident in walking alone, but unfortunately I'm now rather shaken." 

Castiels eyes turned softer, as one of his younger siblings started to whisper an apology before being nudged in the ribs. 

"It's quite alright...." she said, tilting her head as she waited for a name. 

"Samandriel." He supplied "but they call me Alfie." 

Meg looked at him, perplexed and wondering how they got Alfie from Samandriel for a moment before nodding. "It's a pleasure." She said dubiously before returning to look at Castiel. 

"Come." She said, nodding to the other men, and hearing their whispers as she left, feeling Castiels presence at her elbow. Once they rounded a corner, he took her shoulder. 

"Meg. What are you doing?" He asked, stopping her. "It's far too late for you to be out. Too dangerous in these parts." 

"I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing drinking and shouting at women in the street?" She asked with cold eyes. "What if it had been someone else? Someone not me? Would you have taken her home?" She asked snappishly. "Were you looking for a whore? 

Castiel sighed, taking Megs hand and putting it in the crook of his elbow as he started walking down the road slowly. "I would not go home with any other woman, at least not since the day I first saw you." 

Meg gave an offended sniff, satisfied at least with his answer. 

"Will you tell me what you are doing wandering around alone at this time of night?" He asked, looking at her with concern. "Anything could have happened to you."

Meg nodded. "I saw a woman today. They were taking her things." She said softly, frowning up at him. 

Castiel nodded. "I remember. I saw." He said, starting to lead her in the direction of the woman's house. 

"I wanted to help her." Meg finally said, suddenly realising how silly the idea sounded. 

Castiel gave a soft sigh. "We can try, Meg, but I can't promise she will accept. People are proud, even in poverty." He said gently, leading her into the inky black street. 

The windows in every house was dark, bar one, the light from a single candle flickering in the window. Castiel helped her up the stairs, knocking at the door. 

Shuffling was heard inside, the door opening a crack as a pale thin face appeared from around the corner. "I haven't got anything left to give you." She said in a desperate voice, thick with emotion. "Please, my children. Have a heart." 

Meg shook her head. "No. We're here to help." She said, brooking no argument. She pushed the door open with little resistance and slid in past the woman. Castiel stood, hovering on the doorstep for a moment before following her in, surprised at Megs forthrightness. 

He found her stood in a room, empty apart from two stools and a pile of halfmade matchboxes. In the corner, what appeared to be a pile of rags turned out to be a group of children, most awake and now watching with dark fearful eyes. 

She turned to him, eyes glistening as she took her cloak off, draping it over her arm. She untied her moneybag wordlessly, taking out some coins and handing them to him. 

"Go. Get some bread and cheese. Meat, eggs, whatever you can get. Bring coal and firewood too." She ordered him. 

Castiel gaped at her for a moment. "There are no shops open at this time, my Lady." He said softly, only to be met with a glare. 

"Then go back to the tavern and don't take no for an answer." She snapped, stopping just short of stamping her foot.

Castiel inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring before turning, making his way back.

The woman stood, uncertainty written all over her face as she allowed Castiel out, coming back into the sparse room. 

"I have nothing to offer you." She said quietly, wringing her hands, looking over at the children huddled in the corner. 

Meg shook her head, taking a seat on the stool. "Sit." She said, voice softer, gesturing to the stool opposite. 

The woman sat as if in a dream, looking at Meg with wide eyes, hands curling in each other nervously. 

"You owe money." Meg stated, rather than questioned, fingering her bag as the woman nodded. 

"My husband." She said weakly. "There was an accident at the factory. He was pulled into the machine." Her lips quivered. "There was nothing to be done, but I couldn't let him be thrown into a paupers grave, so I took out a loan with the moneylenders. I thought I'd get a job, and I have, but not fast enough." She took out a grubby handkerchief, dabbing at her damp eyes. 

"You earn enough to support yourself and your children now?" Meg asked in a brisk tone. 

The woman nodded. "Yes. My eldest is starting work next week, but there's still so little left over. I'll be paying until I'm dead myself Ma'am." 

"How much?" She asked, opening the bag. 

The woman looked up uncertainly. "I'm not sure what you mean." She said, eyeing the bag. 

"How much do you owe?" Meg said irritably, her cut glass accent sounding foreign in the sparse room. 

"Two pounds." She sniffed, looking up at her, hope shining in her eyes. 

Meg stood, taking three pound notes from her bag and placing them on the mantelpiece. "Pay your debts. Buy your children a bed." She said softly, nodding down at the woman. She looked up at Meg as if she was an angel, falling to her knees and gripping the girls skirts. 

"Thankyou. Thankyou My Lady." She half sobbed as her children edged closer. 

"Mama?" A small boy asked around a sucked thumb, tugging at her sleeve. "Is there food?" 

Meg crouched, helping the woman to sit once more, looking the boy in the eyes. "My friend is bringing some, and he's going to make a fire to keep us warm, and then we're going to have a feast." 

The boys eyes lit up, several pairs of bright eyes looking up as the door opened and shut, Castiel reappearing around the doorframe. 

"Well, they saw me coming." He grouched, placing a sack of coal on the floor, another sack next to it. "A crown just for this. Must have seen I was desperate."

The children flung themselves forward, screaming in excitement and delight as loaves of bread and muslin wrapped cheese started appearing out of the bag, their mother standing and maintaining order as she took them, taking out a large knife to start cutting pieces off, pressing them into whichever outstretched hand appeared first. 

Grubby faces revealed white teeth that pieced hungrily into apples, and Meg chuckled as squeals of delight were heard. 

Disturbed by the commotion, the youngest, still in swaddling clothes, started to wail lustily. Meg glanced at the mother, too distracted with the rest of her brood before going over to the wooden box she was sleeping in. She peeked over for a moment, before awkwardly picking her up, shushing her against her breast as she had seen nannys do whilst promenading. 

The crying quietened to a grizzle as the woman came through, a small bowl of milk, sugar and breadcrumbs mixed in. She held out a spoonful, easing it into the hungry mouth. 

The infant stopped, considering the taste, before opening wide for more. Her mother gave a half hysterical laugh of relief, covering her mouth as she fed her more. The chaos had calmed, children now scattered around the room, concentrating on eating as much as they could. 

"Thankyou." She whispered, hardly even able to look up at her. "I don't like to take charity, but..." She swallowed, emotional. "I was going to take us to the workhouse tomorrow. I'd have never seen them again." She looked around the room at her large brood. "Thankyou My lady." 

Meg nodded stiffly, embarrassment filling her chest as she realised that the price of keeping an entire family together, was what she would usually pay for a dress. 

"That's quite alright." She said with a nod, before handing the child back to her, catching Castiels eye. "But we should be going." 

The woman stepped back, allowing her passage through the room. The children looked up, following them as they stepped back out into the night, beaming faces waving from the doorstep until they were out of sight. 

"That was quite something." Castiel said finally, turning to look at her with a smile. 

Meg shook her head. "It wasn't anything. I'll tell my father I was pickpocketed and he'll hand me more." She looked up at him. "How can it be that I bought three dresses today, when there are people like her, that need the money so much more?" 

Castiels smile faded. "What you did took a great amount of courage and empathy. You don't usually see that from people of your standing. 

She sighed, nibbling at her lip. As she fell into silence.

"I need to do more." She said finally.


	14. Below stairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She took Castiels arm, pulling him down the steps to the servants entrance. The windows there dark and abandoned, the skuttle filled with dark lumps of coal. She hid beneath the walkway to the house, looking up at him with dark eyes

They walked silently arm in arm until they reached the tall white stoned buildings of the well heeled. Megs heart sank as she looked up at her family home. 

Castiel let go of her, nudging her ahead slightly to encourage her back into the warmth and safety of her home. She paused, looking up before turning back to look at him. 

She took Castiels arm, pulling him down the steps to the servants entrance. The windows there dark and abandoned, the skuttle filled with dark lumps of coal. She hid beneath the walkway to the house, looking up at him with dark eyes. 

"Just a few moments longer." She whispered, leaning up against the wall, the coal blackened surface stark against the white walls of the house. She pulled him close to her, raking her fingers through his hair as she kissed him wantonly. 

Castiel did not protest, his hands wrapping around her waist as he moaned quietly into her mouth, holding her soft womanly figure to him and inhaling her sweet scent. He pulled back a moment, looking into her eyes and murmuring her name before lowering his head for another sweet kiss. 

Megs lifted her leg, barely caring as her skirt pulled away leaving it naked to the cool night air as she pulled him between her legs, pussy throbbing desperately. "Castiel. More." She breathed, nails digging into his scalp. 

Castiel grunted as his rapidly swelling cock slotted perfectly along the lips of her swollen sex, Meg giving a soft mewl of surprise. His eyes fluttered shut as the heat of her seeped through the cotton of his clothing, sending shockwaves directly to his erection. 

"What... What is it?" She asked, somewhat naively, reaching down between them to cup her hand around his cock, smoothing slowly upward. 

Castiel bit back a moan, rocking his hips against her hand. "It's my cock." He whispered, voice shaky as he struggled to keep control. "Meg you shouldn't. I won't defile you like this." 

Meg gave a shuddering laugh. "Touching you like this pleases you as you pleased me at the piano?" she asked, looking up for confirmation. Castiel nodded, unable to look at her, cheeks flushed as he thrust slowly against her hand. 

"You wish to have me as though we were married?" She asked, slowly moving to unbutton his britches. Her heart thumped heavily in her chest. She would give him this if he wanted, her most precious gift.

Her soft question made him look down with soft eyes. "More than anything, but not like this. I won't take you in a dirty hovel with a wall against your back like a whore." He whispered softly, pressing his face against her neck, soft kisses dancing over her cool skin. "I won't risk you shaming yourself." He pulled back to look at her. 

Meg gave an irritable sound of protest. "Then why must you tease me so?" She asked, frowning up at him with the beginnings of a pout. 

Castiel huffed a laugh through his nose as he slipped his hands under her thighs, pressing her back firmly against the wall. "I did not say we would be completely chaste my sweet one." He whispered roughly in her ear as he pulled her legs to hook behind his back, the soft hair on her legs tickling his hands pleasingly.

Her hands wrapped around the back of his neck to steady herself as his cock pressed between her lips once more, only the thin cotton of their underwear separating them. She looked up at him, pussy quivering as the hard heat of his cock rubbed over her clit.

They moaned simultaneously, each seeking out the others mouth as Megs wetness soaked through, allowing Castiel to thrust easily against her, large hands gripping and kneading her buttocks in a bruising grasp. 

Meg bit her lip as she thew her head back, the hot leaking tip of his cock pushing insistently at her clit, his breath at her neck as he breathed uncouth language into her ear slowly unraveling her as he forced her closer to the edge with every rut. 

He was unable to hold himself back, despite his own internal reminders that she was but a virgin, had little knowledge of what was meant by sex, let alone the experience, but still his hips pistoned as he rutted against her, conscience only slightly soothed by her pleased gasps and whimpers. 

"It's happening." Was the only warning he got, before her legs tightened around him, face hiding in his neck as she trembled her orgasm, he tried to ride her through it, tried to hold back to negate any risk to her at all, but her throbbing pussy grew in heat, begging him to sink into her. With that thought he was damned, one final push was all that was needed as he thrust against her clit, coming across her stomach, soaking the white cotton of both their underwear. 

He slumped against her, their pants the only thing audible in the inky night. He found his strength to stand after a few moments, letting her down to stand on shaky legs, breathing still jagged as they looked at each other. 

Megs hand stroked through the small hairs at the back of his neck as he rearranged her skirts. She kissed him softly, turning to walk up the steps on wobbly legs. 

Castiel gave a small wave from the doorway of the kitchen, watching carefully to make sure she made it inside safely before sliding inside, locking the door behind him. 

Meg hurried upstairs, damp between her legs and cloak dirtied with coal dust. She lit the gas light in her room before stripping herself down, and slipping into a night gown before throwing herself into bed, smiling herself to sleep at the pleasant ache between her legs.


End file.
